


reionize yourself

by dykerey



Category: Naruto
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Grief, Healing, Introspection, hinted narusasu, i just love sasuke so much its kind of appalling, no beta!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21553219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykerey/pseuds/dykerey
Summary: Itachi, Brother.Itachi’s firm hand on the back of his neck, cold finger on his forehead. His thin smile, the determined set of his shoulders. He can hear Itachi now: “Sorry, Sasuke. Maybe next time.” He sees Itachi in the living room, head bowed as Fugaku lectures. Itachi in his bedroom late at night, when Sasuke has a nightmare and slips under Itachi’s covers. Itachi in the kitchen, laughing quietly as Mikoto shoos him away with a tea towel under claims that he’ll cause an explosion.Sasuke has spent his entire life grieving over his brother: for the man he was, the man he killed, and the man he was forced to become. He’s grown weary of mourning Itachi, of tiptoeing around his memory.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	reionize yourself

**Author's Note:**

> title from "eyeoneye" by andrew bird, which is very much a sasuke song.
> 
> i wrote this in two hours instead of studying for my exam tomorrow. not the best choice maybe but its the one i made. i love sasuke so much it really is becoming a problem.. who needs healthy coping mechanisms when you have a character with a library full of untouched issues that you can pick apart and analyze? 
> 
> i have a sasuke playlist. you can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1MdygGk2c4RHbmj7Gjctzh)
> 
> follow me on twitter @ganseylesbian tumblr @ganseyactivist. thanks for reading

Sasuke’s footsteps are quiet as he makes his way down the familiar path. Years have bloomed and wilted like the flowers, and still the sound his shoes make on the gravel and the faint scent of smoke have yet to fade. He smiles crookedly; it seems he’ll never escape fire, not as long as he lives. It’s as much a part of him as the skin on his back.

Slowly, surely, the Uchiha compound comes into view in front of him. It looms, a ghost, a reminder of all that Sasuke’s lost and will no doubt continue to lose.

His smile grows sharper.

In the years since the massacre, he’s been a bad son. A bad heir. He’s failed in his duties to his family, his clan, and at the thought, he has to swallow back the bile in his mouth. There’s no use pointing fingers here; it’s wholly and fully his fault. In the all-consuming rage that devoured the years after the slaughter, he had lost not just himself, but his family name as well.

Like it or not, Sasuke is an Uchiha, through and through. And to be an Uchiha is to honor your clan above all else, to put your feelings aside and keep your head high in the face of adversity. For all the fire the Uchiha flaunt, they are strict, cold, and this is what Sasuke keeps locked in his chest.

He will never measure up to his late father’s standards. He could not find it within him to look past the hatred, to shoulder the burden of an entire clan. The houses were too cold, the air too empty, and it was too much for Sasuke.

He is a bad son. And yet he holds himself high as he passes underneath the familiar sign. The compound is a mausoleum before him; nary a thing has budged since that fateful night.

It is a ghost town. Houses lay in ruins. Burnt wood is strewn everywhere, and Sasuke can hardly recognize which building served which purpose.

He stops next to a wayward barrel, runs a finger over the top. It comes away almost black, coated in the grief that’s built up over the years.

He is a bad son, a bad brother, a bad friend. He has made mistakes over the years, and they number many. But he’s tired of the hatred held inside his heart, left to fester and grow infected. He’s tired of the loneliness that creeps in like the winter chill, suffocating him even in the humid days of Konoha’s summer. He’s tired of holding everyone at arm’s length, of pretending he’s above the connections he’s managed to make with people even while blinded by shadow.

He’s weary, he’s exhausted, he’s spent. Drained and jaded, he crawled back to Konoha like a dog after years spent in the darkness, beckoned by Naruto’s golden hand. And yet here he stands, not an ounce better than the day he first stepped foot in Konoha, his soul tender and aching.

That’s why he’s here. No matter how soothing Naruto’s words can be, Sasuke has realized that this is a journey he must embark upon himself. Naruto could spend eternity telling Sasuke that he’s a good friend, a good man, _you were just a kid, Sasuke, you didn’t know better_ , and Sasuke would never truly, fully heal.

And maybe Naruto is right. Maybe deep, deep down, Sasuke is a good man, was a good kid and a good brother and son and friend who was just handed an unfortunate set of circumstances. After all, at its core life is about taking whatever hand you were dealt and making the best of it.

Sasuke, however, has made a veritable mess. It had taken many slow, long, painful months before those in the village began to trust him again. Even now Sakura becomes wary when he draws too near, ever nervous that he will plunge another fist into her chest. Tsunade keeps him under an ANBU watch almost constantly. Shikamaru’s smirks are always tinged with hesitation.

It took months for Kakashi to look him in the eyes again.

He takes another step, relishing the solid ground beneath his feet as he passes ghost after ghost. There’s Uncle Teryaki, his laugh heavy and firm, mirth in his eyes. Aunt Yui, with her big smile and even bigger belly. Grandpa Hideki, who snuck Sasuke omusubi when Fugaku wasn’t looking. Izumi, a calm presence by Itachi’s side. Shisui, with his bright laugh and cheerful wink and reassuring hand.

Fugaku, Father. Mikoto, Mother.

Itachi, Brother.

Itachi’s firm hand on the back of his neck, cold finger on his forehead. His thin smile, the determined set of his shoulders. He can hear Itachi now: “Sorry, Sasuke. Maybe next time.” He sees Itachi in the living room, head bowed as Fugaku lectures. Itachi in his bedroom late at night, when Sasuke has a nightmare and slips under Itachi’s covers. Itachi in the kitchen, laughing quietly as Mikoto shoos him away with a tea towel under claims that he’ll cause an explosion.

Sasuke has spent his entire life grieving over his brother: for the man he was, the man he killed, and the man he was forced to become. He’s grown weary of mourning Itachi, of tiptoeing around his memory.

For all his flaws, Itachi is— _was_ , Sasuke catches himself—a good man. A good brother, despite all the years Sasuke believed he wasn’t.

He’s here today to clean, to wash away the ghosts of the past that haunt his psyche more than they haunt the compound.

He starts with Itachi’s room. From his bag, he pulls out a rag and begins to scrub. The floor is layered with grime, and every swipe of the rag leaves it dirtier than the last. By the time he’s covered half the room, the rag is so filthy that its original color can’t even be discerned.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Sasuke wipes his grimy hands on his pants.

He is a bad son. But like all bad sons, he can learn. He can learn and grow and overcome, and become a man Itachi would be proud of, Mikoto would be proud of, Fugaku would be proud of.

It’s there. It’s out of reach, but it’s there.

Sasuke smiles, swallows back the guilt that’s weighed heavily on him for far too long. He can be a good friend, a good brother, a good son.

A good man.

Sasuke takes this truth and tucks it inside his chest, rising from the floor. It’s getting dark outside; the sun makes its descent down the sky, and soon the moon will rise to take its place. Seems his cleaning will have to resume tomorrow, but it’s okay.

After all, tomorrow is a new day.


End file.
